Drunk and Probably Injured
by UumRonin
Summary: After the battle in New York, things try to return to normal. Loki's burden on Clint hasn't quite lifted and weeks after he returned to Asguard, Clint started showing symptoms that there was something else clearly still wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Drunk and Probably Injured

I.

After a planet is saved from intergalactic force, typically things return to normal. Reality isn't too far off with our handful of fighters as well, returning to their somewhat-not-at-all normal lives. Tony Stark and Pepper Pots return to their tower, adding the finishing touches and remodeling what's left of the upper stories. Bruce Banner is conducting his research throughout more sleepless nights in a much safer home. Captain is adjusting well to the easy life and has even found himself a girl. Our two foreign acquaintances, Loki and Thor, aim to rebuild what was broken long ago in Asgard, attempting to repair their bond and their trust.

That leaves us with Natasha and Clint, two very close friends who fell into a rougher way of settling back into things. Once Clint returned to his apartment, Natasha moved in a new house just a few blocks down to be closer to the city. They pop in to see one another frequently and it's no doubt they've kept their friendship intact.

However, not everything has returned to normal. Not for Clint. He knew something was wrong the moment Loki returned to Asgard. He didn't know what exactly but slowly it was taking its effect. Even if it was nothing at all, the pure stress of thinking that it was held a weight on him.

On a slim, summer day, Tony invited the team over for some drinks. Natasha swung by to pick Clint up and they drove the short distance to Stark Tower. The first party guests to arrive. Tony always overdid things, so when Natasha noticed a hanging banner with his face on it, she was not surprised.

She steps up the wide concrete stairway leading to the front door before pressing the button. Moments pass, no answer. Natasha patiently waits before reaching for the doorbell again and as she does, it swings back, revealing an excited face.

"Well look who it is! Come on in!" Pepper swung the door open and stepped back.

"Miss Potts. We appreciate the invite." Natasha stepped inside first.

"Hey Pepper." Clint wasn't always as good with people but at least he was trying. Sometimes. The three walked inside and Clint closed the door behind him. Pepper led them into an elevator which carried them up to a lounge on a high floor.

"I'll go get him. He hasn't slept in God knows how long. Maybe getting the team back together for a night will help him relax." Pepper faded out as she disappeared back down the elevator to retrieve her lover boy.

"I'm hungry," Clint said as he headed toward the mini-kitchen-type-thing. It had a counter and a fridge, which consisted solely of alcohol, much to his disappointment.

"When are you not hungry?" She had a point. If Barton wasn't on a mission or sleeping, he was stuffing his face. The guy ate, like, four protein bars a day. She heads toward the kitchen and starts getting out bowls and utensils like she lives there. Clint finds a soda in the back of the fridge and watches, not interested in helping.

The floor took a step up in some places and a step down in others, something inconvenient yet attractive that architects are doing nowadays. A pair of French doors led out to a balcony and a big couch has its back turned to the kitchen. It was a very large, open area. You could practically see "Stark" written all over the place.

"Cap comin'? Heard he got swamped with some stuff in Paraguay." He took another gulp of his soda.

"That man has a schedule entirely of his own."

"You said it."

There was a lot of food in the cupboards but only the hard ones that required too much effort to be made. Instead, Clint reached for a box of cereal and ate it by the handful.

Natasha set the utensils down and walked toward the balcony, gazing at the view. She'd love to live in a place high off the ground. Anything was better than the filthy city streets littered with crime and yesterday's newspaper. She turned back to Clint and noticed he had stopped eating. He was faced away from her, staring at something.

"Barton?"

He didn't respond. His eyes were dazed off in space.

"Hey. Barton." She hesitated. Clint's hand still held onto the soda but the cereal was now on the counter. Quickly he snapped out of whatever illusive trance he had caught himself in, blinking quickly a few times.

"What?" He replied sharply. His eyes now empty of whatever trance he was in and replaced with worry and fret.

"What was that?"

"Dunno. I was just zoning out, I guess." He brought the bottle to his mouth again. She didn't buy that answer for a second.

"Yeah right. Maybe you should sit down." She motioned for a nearby bar stool and as she was reaching to pull it out, a loud crash made her jump a few inches. Crackling and splattering that lasted for what seemed like minutes. The floor was suddenly wet. Remains of the soda peppered the floor and Clint bent over in pain, looking for something else to carry his weight for him.

"Barton, what's the matter with you? Talk to me." She didn't want to panic and add more stress to the situation. Instead she watched as he clutched at his chest, doubled over on the granite island. If Stark were to finally show up, now would be a good time.

"I'm fine. It's fine." He reached for the island and used it as a crutch. His head swayed slightly, as if it didn't want to support its own weight anymore either. "Maybe not. I feel kinda sick." He grunted, hiding his head with his arms, which were very grateful for the kitchen island's existence at that point.

"Sit down. Here, have some water." She dragged a bar stool across the wooden floor for him to sit and filled a plastic cup with water. "Don't move. I'll clean up the glass."

He took the cup and raised it to his lips, lowering it just before he spoke.

"Hey, don't…stop cleaning up. I don't know what happened I-"

"Stop it." She interrupted again, pushing the cup back up to his lips, forcing him to take a drink. "Soda slows you down anyway." She smiled at him, and he forced a smiled back.

It only took a few minutes to get all of the sticky liquid and glass off of the wooden floor. By that point, Clint had finished only a few sips of his glass of water.

"What the hell is taking Stark so long? Buffing out his hundredth suit already? Let's get you over to the couch." She put her hand on his shoulder, and then used the other to scoop him up on his feet. "How does it feel to stand?"

His arm was flung over her and they were slowly making their way to the couch. Up one of the random steps in the floor, then down another. The countless fights and times spent helping one another out of harm's way, tonight being no different. Except tonight there were significantly less alien life forms threatening their existence. So that's a plus.

"It's probably just a bug. Listen, I'm really sorry that-…"

"You need to relax. Here, sit down." She slowly eased him off of her shoulder and onto the couch. He slumped back with a grunt and finally managed to relax his entire body.

"You're acting like you're in pain. Tell me what's wrong." Natasha had known Clint for a very long time and if it's one thing she knows, it's that he doesn't like to communicate pain with others. Although a few times, both inebriated and sober, he has come out of his shell, it is still a challenge to crack him open when needed.

She took a seat on the couch next to him and faced in his direction so that he had her full attention. He realized it'd be no use in this instance to be stubborn, so he began to talk.

"My head hurts. It's like my eyes can't focus on anything." He looked up at her, hoping she would understand somehow without him having to admit any more weaknesses. "Really, Nat. It's nothi—"

"Let me see." She moved toward him, placing her hands gently on the back of his head, looking for any bumps or bruises. The tussling of his hair sent chills down his spine. "I don't see anything. It's probably just a bad headache. Did you drink at all last night?"

"No, I came home and went straight to bed. My chest …it's weird. Suddenly I felt this huge surge go through me, like a jolt of electricity, and then I couldn't move. The next thing I know I'm holding a cup of water."

She sat back a little, looking at him closer.

"You don't remember anything before that? Dropping the bottle, or stumbling to the island?"

He shook his head. He had no idea what she was talking about.

"It's like you blacked out or something. That's really weird, even for you. You should see a doctor or call up Banner at least." She got up from the couch and headed back to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water for her and refilling his.

"I'm not seeing a doctor, especially Bruce. I'll be fine, just give it a day or two and it'll go away." He placed his hand on his forehead and tried feeling for a fever.

Natasha eased back down into the couch and held out his glass, putting hers on the coffee table. She inched closer, feeling his forehead and cheeks with both sides of her hand.

He looked at her the entire time, but she was focused on what she was doing. Being babied wasn't something Barton particularly enjoyed. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was no ordinary stomach bug.

"You feel a little warm." She returned to her side of the couch. "Drink plenty of water, alright? Finish that glass."

"Yeah, yeah." Clint's phone rang from his pocket. A call from Steve Rogers. He stood to answer it and Natasha grabbed at his arm.

"Sit down, you need to—"

He shrugged her off and lifted the phone to his ear.

She only heard Clint's end of the conversation. "Yeah?...No, don't worry about it…You don't have to do that…You sure?...Well I won't argue with you…Yeah she's here…Sure I don't mind at all...You're such an ass…Yep."

He returned the device to it's home in his right front pocket and took another sip of water.

"Rogers can make it after all." He said in between gulps.

"What happened to all of his plans?"

"Cancelled, I guess. Maybe he realized we're the closest people he knows and should work harder to keep us around."

Nat chuckled in response. Clint took his seat on the couch and leaned back.

"Stark had better be using all this time to gather up some booze. I could use a drink."

Tony wasn't busy getting alcohol. Well, he was, but that wasn't the only thing keeping him. This little "party" of his is a surprise revealing to the rest of the team. Fury had a good, long talk about the gusto that a full team of Avengers provided to the world. The plan was that the team would relocate to Stark tower and live there together, all easier to contact and on SHIELD's radar. And to help build team spirit, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

Drunk and Probably Injured

II.

"Sir, your guests have been unattended for nearly thirty minutes."

"Hey JARVIS. Let's cool it buddy. I'm getting there." Tony finished tapping at his computer screen and exporting files of science and things. "And…saved. Okay, to the cellar."

He strolled through his pantry of alcohol. Tequila, rum, brandy, vodka, anything that a billionaire could afford was in stock.

"Let's get a few cases of beer and some rum or something." He spoke aloud to JARVIS. "Have you ever thought about how many different kinds of alcoholic drinks there are in the world?"

"Quite ridiculous, sir."

"Ridiculous? It's heaven." He grabbed three six-packs of beer and set them in a crate to be carried upstairs. "A few bottles of some different stuff, there we go. Us super-freaks are bound to drink it all one way or another."

From the hallway, Natasha heard the ding of the elevator.

"Christ, are we really going to need all of this?" Clint commented as Stark appeared out of the elevator with a crate full of bottles.

"Don't be a wuss. We're all adults here. If Banner shows up he'll drink us all dry. The guy practically eats and drinks for two."

"Sounds about right." Clint took another sip of water. Any weirdness from before was gone and now he was finally ready to kick back and relax with the only people on Earth who he considers 'friends'. It helped that Nat was there to bring him back out of his own head a little. It was always nice having that.

"You used to be a tank yourself, Barton. Remember training days?" Natasha got up to help Tony put all the drinks in the fridge.

"Ha. This tank has been running on empty ever since New York. Won't take much now." He patted his stomach, which reminded him that the cereal from Stark's pantry was the only thing he'd eaten since breakfast. Today his appetite must've slipped away, but that's all right. Maybe they'd order some pizzas or something and he could refuel.

"Well grab your tank and help get…" Stark stopped what he was doing and picked up a box of Fruit-O's from the counter. It wasn't in its place in the cupboard and felt a little lighter. His face held an accusatory look as he glanced back and forth between Clint and Natasha. "Who the hell?"

Clint grabbed two more beers and opened them, handing one to Tony. Natasha was taking her time, still contemplating the taste of her first. Too many times did alcohol interfere with her ability to perform, whether it was for a mission or just talking to someone. It didn't work out very well and she didn't like feeling out of control.

The patio furniture sat them comfortably around a glass table. The entire balcony overlooked the outer parts of the city, which was just as beautiful as the lit buildings at night. If Clint had super vision, he would be able to see his apartment just on the other side of some hills straight ahead.

"We'll see how much help you need drinking yours and go from there."

"Oh it's on, Bird Brains. No taking it back. You're going down."

Clint pushed aside the bottle of beer that was already finished and raised the new one. Tony raised his second one as well while Nat sighed in between them.

"To bad decisions and things we'll never remember again."

They took a big swig. Friendship is a wonderful thing, and it's even better with booze, or so the men here like to think.

"I'm not helping either one of you into your pajamas tonight when you're too inebriated to do it yourselves. Again." Natasha was used to this type of competitiveness on a team with a bunch of Type A personalities. Barton never came off as too much of a Type A, but he was certainly Type I-Have-To-Prove-To-At-Least-Myself-That-I'm-Good-At-Things.

The cold beer tasted refreshingly bitter in their mouths and they pushed through until the bottom of the bottle was facing the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

Drunk and Probably Injured

III.

A couple of hours passed and all eighteen of the beers were gone. Three six packs to three superheroes didn't seem like that much when it was all said and done. The assassins had five and Stark was in the lead with eight. The competition portion of the night had dulled down. Instead, they chatted about strange rumors and admired the way the sky looked at night from the balcony of Stark Tower. Tony was feeling those three extra beers a bit sooner than expected.

"What's Mr. Rogers doing that American boy wonder? I don't remember, but Widow you have his number? Ask him to join us!"

Clint chuckled at the slurs of his friend. Natasha shot a glare, which meant that she was probably having a good time too.

"He doesn't live around here, Tony. He told Barton he would stop by though." Natasha tried to reason with him by speaking slowly, almost at an embarrassing pace. Some talk show was playing on the TV behind them inside but the outside was much more invigorating. The coldness of the night air was brisk, but the drinks were keeping them plenty warm.

"Who's up for another round?" Clint got up from his seat and started walking inside. "All we've got is the hard stuff now. What does iron work better with? Vodka or rum?" he joked to Tony.

"I happen to be a bit a lot tougher than vodka, Barton, and I'm embarrassed to have been asked you such a thing." His slurs were pathetic, but still made Natasha a bit glad she decided to show up to this shindig. When wasn't it fun to watch Stark make a fool of himself?

"Hey, anything in a good amount will get you where you need to be, and sometimes where you don't want to be." Clint made the unanimous decision to dig into the rum. It was top-shelf stuff, not to any surprise. "Tash?" he asked, lifting the bottle up and offering her some.

"If it's in a glass in front of me then you two idiots can't get to it," she said plainly. He took that as a yes.

"Avengers. Hm. We kick ass. You know that? We kick ass!" Stark yelled, tilting his empty bottle upward and pouring the few drops left down his throat. He slammed it down on the table where the glass of the beer connected with the glass of the table in a loud clank. "Are you perfecting our drinks with icing and flowers, Mr. Barton?" Stark asked, growing impatient without having a drink in front of him at every second. Hints of a past version of himself were showing tonight, the pieces that Pepper kept trying to move on from and tried to get Tony to do the same.

"Yeah, yeah, they're right here." He carried in three tall glasses containing rum and whatever else he thought would mix into a somewhat drinkable liquid. Tony happily took one and held it in the air, surprisingly not spilling any.

"To the Avengers!"

"The Avengers, huh? What are we, officially a boy band now?" Clint asked. He looked over at Natasha who dropped a deadly look. "I mean…boy and girl band. Of course."

"Well I was supposed to wait for all of you to be here, but I guess I can let you two in on the surprise a little early," Tony began. Natasha sipped at the drink Clint handed her. A wave of rum splashed on her tongue with a faint taste of root beer. After a few sips it became a little more tolerable.

"So, as you know, Fury met with me last week."

"We didn't know that. But thank you for assuming we observe every detail of your life," Natasha spat.

"Oh, you mean you don't? That's surprising." Tony paused, looking off for a moment. "Anyways, Fury wants us all to live in the tower together and I agreed on letting you hooligans live here under my authority and out of respect for my private areas." That was a very shaved down version of the whole story, but Tony figured it was enough to get the point across. He had to think a little harder than normal to get the words out into a coherent thought.

Clint didn't say anything. He looked down into his drink and swished it around, creating tiny waves in the glass. Natasha was quiet, also unsure about whether or not she wanted to be assigned to a living space, especially after finally settling into an environment she was comfortable with for the first time in a long time.

"Well?" Tony looked back and forth between their blank faces. "This is a good thing. Say yes. You're supposed to say yes."

Clint brought his glass to his lips and swallowed a mouthful. The sting brought a slight grimace afterwards and he regretted taking that big of a gulp.

"I don't know, Stark," Natasha finally said. "To have all of us living under one roof? We're not exactly model human beings, and to be in one building together? That's what Fury wants?"

"Fury wants a team. That's what we are." Tony took another drink and leaned back in his chair. He knew that he would be thankful he invested in the patio furniture that reclines, and thankful he was. "We were a team when we fought Loki and we're a team now. Besides, we'll have plenty of personal space. Look at this place. It's huge if you haven't noticed."

Clint's gaze hadn't separated from his drink, which was depleting quicker than his body could process it.

"What do you think?" Natasha asked him. Clint knew whom she was talking to, but he didn't look up. It was a long moment before his voice finally found itself.

"Why does Fury want me?" He looked up at Stark instead. Tony was too busy looking outwards, but after a minute of silence he turned around to see why the conversation had stopped and noticed Barton eyeing him down. "You talked to him. What did he say about me being a part of the team?"

Tony hesitated. Natasha was intrigued, her gaze shifting back and forth between the two. It was then that she noticed her vision lagging ever so slightly. Her glass was halfway gone. She must've been taking bigger sips than she realized. That meant it was time to slow down.

"You're just as important to the team as we are. You know that." Tony's voice was still drunk, but his tone had changed. He was now a serious version of his drunken self.

"You're lyin—"

"And you damn well know it, too," Tony interrupted. This caught Clint off guard and he now gave his full attention to him. "You know this team needs you and you know that what happened with you and Loki wasn't your fault. You wanna know what was your fault? Pushing and making it through the God damn thing."

Clint didn't say anything. His eye contact with Stark remained for a minute before he closed his eyes and brought his glass up to his lips once more. The glass was emptied, the bitter liquid slid down his throat and into his stomach, mixing with the rest of the stuff.

Tony didn't take his eyes off of him. He could feel the guilt radiating from Clint. Natasha could feel it too. She always felt it and, sadly, has grown accustomed to it.

"Barton, slow down…" Nat began, but trailed off.

An awkward silence fell like a blanket over the three.

"I shouldn't h've brought it up." Tony turned back around and faced away from the balcony, back out toward the hills and faint suburban lights. The concoction of rum with barely any root beer swished around in his glass. He had only tapped into maybe a third of it, significantly slowing down once the conversation lost its lightheartedness.

"We're glad you did. It gives us something to think about." Natasha spoke for both herself and Clint, even if it wasn't what he was thinking at all.

"Well ya d'nt have much time," Tony slurred. "Fury w'nts our first team meeting in two days."

That was interesting, Clint thought, fighting the mugginess building up in his head. Fury expected them all to agree to this before even being asked. He looked over at Natasha whom met his eyes. She was thinking the same thing. He could tell.

A wave of something washed over Barton and left a warm aura. It frightened him a bit, reminding him of what had happened earlier that day. He quickly dismissed it as a result of the alcohol and as a result of deciding this he tipped his glass back in a final effort at getting the last few drops.

His eyes started closing a little as his breathing grew heavier, feeling a wave of blackness wash over him. The warm was still there; he could feel it under his skin. Clint set the glass back on the table and sat forward in his chair.

"Barton?" Natasha put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her and smiled.

"I'm fine. This news is just…overwhelming."

"I have faith in you two. You'll do what's right, and th'ts me talkin', not Fury." Tony raised his glass and looked at Nat. "Cheers." He raised his glass and began drinking in big gulps. Natasha did not raise her glass this time. She looked at Clint with growing concern and realized that quite a bit of dirt was being tossed into the air this evening.

Inside, a figure walked across the room and out onto the patio. Natasha noticed him coming and greeted him with a half smile. Steve stood behind Clint with his height and blonde hair smiling as much as his mouth was. Captain America himself.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up," she said, completing the other half of her smile.

"Rogers, a man of his word. Eh, Cap? Cap'n? Steve-o American-o?" Tony swiveled in his chair to face the newest arrival, who smiled back at him.

"Something like that." Steve made his way to the last open seat at the table. He noticed the empty beers and three regular glasses that sat in front of their designated patrons. "You all look like you've been having some fun."

"Actually I'm glad you did decide to show up. I'm placing you on babysitting duties," Nat said. She glanced over at Clint. Usually he would have gotten a laugh out of that. Instead, his gaze was lost somewhere up above. He had found a comfortable position reclining in the chair. The metal creaked as he rocked every now and then, tilting his blurry perspective on the stars ever so slightly.

"We were just informed of some important news, via this drunken fool." Natasha motioned a hand at Tony, who winked in return. "Apparently we're one big happy family, whether or not we like it."

"The Avengers, right? Fury finally told you?" Steve looked at her, but her expression had become much less than what it was.

"What do you mean 'finally'?" she said, turning to Stark. "'Finally'? What the hell does that mean? Stark?" She pieced things together and realized that her and Clint were the last to find out about this. Meaning that everyone else had already accepted. That's why Fury was so sure the two of them would join.

"He just wanted to wait a little while everyone got their bearings," Steve explained. It was returned with a solemn expression. Natasha looked over at Clint, who had at this point exhumed himself from the conversation. He felt the sting of her vision yet again and scooted his chair back, grabbing his glass and moving back towards the kitchen.

_You can't keep running from things you don't want to face, from us_, she wanted to say to him. Now wasn't the place. Not with Steve and Tony around. Not with this much alcohol in his system.

"I don't see what the big deal is. Be happy you both can say you belong somewhere, with us." Tony found a cube of ice to swirl around in his empty glass.

Barton returned with two glasses like the ones before, one for him and one for Tony.

"He's had enough, you both have. At least for a while, okay? Let's enjoy the night." Steve reached over the table for Tony's glass, but Stark was too quick. He snatched it and smirked at Steve.

"Afraid I can't handle myself, Rogers?" Tony tilted the glass towards his lips and took a sip. At this point it he was numb to the sting and it went down like soda.

Clint reclaimed his seat and finally returned eye contact to Natasha. He looked over at Steve as well and opened his mouth to speak.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Steve chuckled. He looked back at Clint and down at his glass and its contents. "You too, you know."

To this, Clint chuckled a little. The effects of the alcohol had taken over and allowed himself to sink into his own skin, into his own thoughts, and left him just another occupant of the group. Hearing that there was a fear of him losing control was humorous. He thought about Loki. He thought about New York. He washed them both down with a gulp and a wince.

"Worrying about each other comes with being a team, huh?" Clint said without looking at him. Steve knew what he meant.

The archer looked over at Natasha for a moment. She offered a slight nod to him. Clint's foggy head swiveled around to look at Steve, and Steve knew exactly what that meant.

Clint and Natasha were in.


End file.
